


Waking Up In Vegas

by japastiel



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Excessive Drinking, M/M, Sibling Incest, elves behaving badly, irresponsible amounts of money being bet between friends, mentions of sibling incest, vegas shenanegans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4231197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japastiel/pseuds/japastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens in Vegas never actually stays in Vegas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up In Vegas

Celegorm slides up to Tilion who’s sitting at the bar, swirling his brightly colored cocktail with a plastic mini sword meant for staking olives and citrus fruit.

"Hey bud, I know you love all things ridiculous and fruity and have terrible taste, but you know most of the liquor in this place is just for show, right? And I don't know if I should feel offended that you’re drinking something bright pink in my microbrewery.”

“Hey you called me up here at 9am, let me drink what I want in peace.”

“No need to get snippy. I just need your opinion on something. But that can wait. I wanted to ask your for a small favor first.”

“Sure bro, whats up?” Tilion asks before drinking the last of his ghastly pink concoction.

“Well, I’m providing the alcohol for this wedding in a couple weeks and now they’re willing to pay three times the price if I also set up a bar with a bartender, and I was hoping you could help me out.”

"You want me to bartend?”

“Well, I need someone with social skills who also doesn’t look like the underside of a hog hoof, so your _roommate_ is out.” Celegorm stopped moving bottles around to use obnoxious air quotes around roommate, then snorted when Tilion pouted, then continued doing inventory.

“Hah, that also means yours is out.” Tilion smirks, knowing that throwing jabs at Curufin is a sure fire way of getting under Celegorm’s skin.

“Hey,” Celegorm turns around from wiping the back of the bar down, and points a disapproving finger at the pale blond, “it’s only cool when I talk shit about my brothers. And Curvo doesn't look like _any_ underside of any animal paw. Thank _you_ very much.”

 _Mission Rile-up-Tyelko-and-insult-Curvo-before-noon accomplished._ Tilion laughs, “Touchy touchy, so defensive of the tiny little nugget.” and adds, “But, you know it’s true. Though, I hate to admit it, Curvo might be a bit more social than Moryo.”

“Hah, completely. I’m surprised Moryo has any friends at all, to be honest. He’s such a prickly douchebag like 90% of the time. In fact, if the rumours are true, and I think they are, I can’t believe Moryo got _someone_ to sleep with him on the regular.”

“Hey, your brother may be more prickly than an 80 year old saguaro, but he is also smokin' hot. And perfectly good in bed, I’ll have you know.” Tilion waggles his eyebrows in the mirrored backsplash knowing Celegorm can see him.

“Okay okay, sharing time is over. But you know what, I’ll bet you Moryo never gets married. Or if he does, he will be the last of us.” Celegorm smirks knowingly.

“Tyelkormo are you implying that you would marry your younger brother before Carnistir could find a suitable lover to wed?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Ha, I’ll take that bet. $2000 says that Moryo gets married before any of you, actually.”

“Tilion, are _you_ implying that you want to get hitched to my brother?”

“Hell no, we aren’t like that and you know it. We’re just having fun and it’s easy. Roommates are the best fuck buddies, I always say.”

“You really are a walking disaster Til.” Celegorm chuckles while stacking pint glasses. “But I’ll take your money.” They both grin and shake on it, sealing the deal.

Tilion puffs his chest out and leans over the bar, mock leering at Celelgorm, “Yeah, but I’m fun, and that’s why you love me Tyel.”

“Whatever you gotta tell yourself, man. Now, can you help me bartend that wedding? I’m sure you’ll make bank on tips. Hot blond eligible bachelor bartender. Room full of drunk singles who just watched their friend get married.”

“When is it, again?”

“Two Saturdays from tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I think I’m free. Sign me up.”

“Til, you’re always free. Living off movie royalties for the rest of your life, right?”

“Hey, I lead a busy life. Things to do, places to go, people to see. People to _do_.” Tilion smirks.

“Fuck off Til, I don’t want to hear any more about your creepy sex life with my brother. Now back to what I really called you over here for.” Celegorm walked out from behind the bar and head jerked for Tilion to join him. Tilion dropped his glass behind the bar, tossed the plastic sword in the trash and followed him.

 

* * *

_six months later..._

 

Tilion drapes his arms over Caranthir’s shoulders, both hands gripping the tops of two glasses filled to the brim with worryingly neon green liquid.

“Midori sours with a kick. Chug on three?” Caranthir looks up over his shoulder, away from the slot machine he was sitting at to glare into Tilion’s stupidly jovial face.

“Gross dude. You already made me chug like 8 of those nasty purplenurple things. Why can’t we just drink Coors Light?” Caranthir scowls and goes back to pushing the big _Repeat Bet_ button.

“‘Cause, Carnistir, Coors Light is disgusting and your brother would sense it and have a stroke or something.”

“You are oddly convincing, and possibly even less logical when you’re drunk. _Damn_." Caranthir swore when the machine chimed for more money.

“Well I’m trying to get us more drunk, so here-” he shoved the drink down into Caranthir’s hand. “Plus we are in Vegas. And your nickel slot fund has run dry. You need to loosen up dude. Enjoy shit. Quit being such a sourpuss.”

“I’m not being a sourpuss. I’m just shitting all over your taste in drinks.” Caranthir allowed Tilion to pull him up and away from the rows of slot machines back towards the bar.

Tilion offered up an impish look and clinked their glass rims, “Cheers! onetwo _Three_!”

When Carathir slammed his glass back on the bar he scrunched his nose, “Fuck, Til, that was nasty. I’m buying the next round. And yeah, yeah, I know: _no Coors Light_.”

Six tequila shots, and two Coors Lights later they left the casino to find another, more exciting bar and stumbled out into the crisp desert air. The neon strip lights were glittering against the night sky, offering up promises of excitement and sin.

Tilion looked across the boulevard, squinted and read _WEDDING CHAPEL: MARRIAGE INFORMATION: OPEN 7 DAYS A WEEK TILL MIDNIGHT_ in bright rainbow letters. Small gay pride flags were displayed over the door. The alcohol haze swirling in his brain cleared away enough to remember Celegorm’s bet and the easiest $2000 he could ever win. _Like stealing candy from a baby,_ he thought and grinned savagely at Caranthir.

“Hey. Hey, Moryo.” Tilion shoulder bumped Caranthir.

“Whaa?” Caranthir slurred, leaning into Tilion as their pace slowed to a crawl.

Tilion wrapped his arm around Caranthir’s shoulders and steered him to face the chapel.

Caranthir frowned and looked back at Tilion, “Are you- really Til? I’m not that drunk, dude.”

“You are actually, and so am I, but no, hear me out. And try to not be mad. Actually I don’t think you'll be mad. You love money. Actually, you may be proud of me after hearing this.”

“Hear what, Til? Spit it out.” Caranthir swayed backwards away from Tilion and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Okay...so like six months ago Tyelko and I made a bet….”

* * *

The bright morning sunlight streamed into the bedroom and hit Caranthir square in his eyes.

“Fuck we forgot to close the drapes. And fuck my head hurts. Fuck, fuck, what did we drink last night, I feel worse than after drinking that awful murder moonshine you and Tyelko used to make. And please tell me I didn’t smoke. My mouth tastes like an ashtray.”

“ugh Moryo, keep it down,” Tilion moaned from underneath the comforter in their bed, “stop shouting, and yeah, you smoked a whole pack of salems you stole from an older lady with an oxygen tank who looked about a week away from dying from emphysema. You also gave her a very loud lecture on the dangers of smoking as you lit up. we got kicked out of Ceasar’s Palace because of it. And I think we drank like two whole bottles of tequila. And so many shitty, shitty cans of Coors Light. Fuck, Carnistir, close the window already.”

“I’m trying. I can’t see anything and where the fuck is the pull for these awful things…” he lifted his hand to search for the pull and something gold glittered in the bright sun. Something gold and taking up space on his left ring finger.

“Hey Tilion, do you remember anything else we did last night?”

“Hm. After tequila shot number um - eight maybe - everything is a blur, why?” Tilion grumbled.

“Have any idea why I’m wearing this?” He turned around and shoved his hand toward Tilion’s half open eyes.

“Um, no?” Tilion pulled his left hand from underneath the sheets. “But I have a matching one.”

“Well, fuck.” Caranthir slumped back onto the bed.

“Hey don't look so down. At least it’s me you apparently drunk-married instead of some stranger.”

“But _married_ , Tilion? We have to do something - we have to be able to get out of this. Maybe it doesn't count cause we were wasted?”

“Aww Moryo, not even 24 hours and you already want to divorce me? I’m wounded.” Tilion wrapped his arm around Caranthir. “But I can think of a few reasons why we shouldn’t.”

“I’m just dying to hear these reasons.” Caranthir deadpanned. “But after I shut the curtains.” He finally found the pull and their room was engulfed in sweet, sweet darkness. Tilion pulled Caranthir back into their warm king-sized bed and tangled their legs together, resting his chin atop Caranthir’s head, finger combing his dark hair.

“Well, for one, who else were you planning on marrying. No-one, right? So, with me, it’s the same deal. Roommates, lots and lots of fucking with no strings, but now with added tax benefits. Two, shiny new bling,” he waggled his fingers against Caranthir’s, letting their rings clink against each other, “and three, you are now one thousand dollars richer with the added bonus that it’s Tyelkormo’s money. Making it that much sweeter.”

The previous night flashed back through Carranthir’s mind's eye in jumbled bits and pieces. Staring at rainbow glittering lights and Tilion’s rough voice explaining to him that if they get hitched, Celegorm would have to to part ways with two thousand of his hard earned dollars and split two ways, that’s one thousand a piece. Caranthir’s eyes lit up as he pulled them across the strip towards the chapel.

“Oh my fuck, we did. We got drunk-married. In Vegas. My mother is going to shit a brick. I don’t even want to think about my dad.” Caranthir whined into Tilion’s shoulder.

“Shh, don’t worry,” he kissed Caranthir’s temple, “just picture the money, and Tyelkormo’s face when he sees our wedding bands. It’s gonna be epic. And I guess if you ever meet someone else who wants to marry your grumpy ass, we can get divorced. But when we get back, I’m gonna get that two grand in ones and spread it out over that sofa in Tyelko’s office and fuck you on top of it, too. Rub the most salty of salts in the wound. Video snapchat that shit to him, too.”

Caranthir chuckled, “Oh, baby, Talk dirty to me.” and relaxed into Tilion, peppering kisses along his collarbones, “or even better, shut up and fuck me, now. After all we have to consummate our marriage, _husband_.”

“Hah-you don’t have to ask me twice, _husband_.” Tilion purred and kissed Caranthir, sliding between his already parted legs.


End file.
